Blog for May 27th, 2009
I am rebelling today against the list-driven life. For some reason, my ambition has flown out the window, and my desire to check off tasks has disappeared. As Greg Brown sings, “The spring wind blew my list of things to do away…”
This rarely happens to me. I live in a town of hardworking people, who pride themselves on how much they have to do, and how much they can get done.
Years ago, I was walking down the dock with a fishing pole one sunny spring day, past a bunch of guys with sanders, and they said, “Someone got all their boat work done…” Of course, I hadn’t, and they played me just like a fish. I went sport fishing, but the thought of my undone chores followed me all the way up the creek. That one comment seems to sum up an underlying ethic here in town. It would not work today though. Nothing is compelling me to answer the call to apply myself.
It might be a Fun hangover from the three-day weekend at Camp Island. We had the 3rd annual Camp Island Memorial Day Campout, and I am still reveling in the memories of tents in the yard, bonfires on the beach and babies in the grass. I pegged the Fun Meter all weekend. The sun was shining as we wandered the tide flats admiring huge icebergs, and explored the island. I found a new eagle tree, and fell asleep in the deep, soft moss, waiting for the adults to return to their nest.
My favorite moments were late at night when the tide came in and doused the bonfire. We piled the flames high with drift logs and threw on spruce branches that exploded in a shower of sparks. The tide seeped in unseen in the dark, under the logs, and lifted the fire as water boiled around the glowing coals. The logs on top were still flaming as the coals sizzled, popped and groaned. “It sounds like the Cremation of Sam Magee!” said Eric. Fred finished off the fire by hurling an iceberg into the smoke.
The wild Easterly wind out of LeConte Bay drove thousands of icebergs onto the beach. I kayaked across the bay with Sharon, and Joe paddled with young Van Abbott against the wind, through the bobbing ice to the grass flats to look for bears. Ben has seen a couple of black bears grazing in the morning. We finally found the lee, and wandered the flats, but all we saw was bear scat. Lots of it. “Hey, don’t worry”, we told Van. “This is several hours old…”There was plenty of it though. I think we have quite a few burly neighbors across the water from Camp Island.
The next morning we wandered through a labyrinth of blue ice. Bergs the size of houses lined the beach. It was eerie threading a path between dripping icebergs, listening for the sudden crack and roar as one rolled in the tide, or broke under its own weight.
We explored the tide pools exposed by a minus four-foot tide, and found scarlet prawns, and orange starfish, purple urchins and striped anemones.
My soul was transported to another reality over the weekend and it has not come back. My body is in town, and my boat is in the shipyard. That should be enough reality to snap me to attention. But nothing is working.
I always feared this would happen one day, that the rigorous discipline and work ethic I imposed on myself would disintegrate, and I would become a vagabond, a drifter. It doesn’t feel bad actually. I may have a future as a Lotus Eater. As Rumi says:
“Today like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. “
Hi Julie,
The Camp Island Memorial Day Campout sounds like it was terrific. One of these days I would like to join you there. I miss and need the wildness in my life.
I, too, have been trying to ignore the lists – no matter what needs to be done, I am trying to play my guitar each day. But I don’t put it on a list. It happens in spite of the list. Or maybe to spite the list.
Today, when I came home from school, after a day of following numerous check lists (some of my own devising and some handed to me by others), I ignored everything that I “should” have been doing and plunked myself next to one of my beehives and just watched and listened to the bees for an hour or so.
It was very soothing and lovely.
The sky is blue, the westerly wind is making waves through the orchard grass, the birds are singing and thousands of bees are coming and going.
I hope these first days of summer are finding you well – you are probably out on the water somewhere.
Say hello to the ocean and the mountains and the trees, and tell them that I miss them.
Love,
krister